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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885692">Braid my hair</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/missameliep/pseuds/missameliep'>missameliep</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Pursuit of Happiness [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Desire &amp; Decorum (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:28:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/missameliep/pseuds/missameliep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>* This ficlet was inspired by this ask by @noesapphic - Here I come with a prompt for you: Imagine that Elizabeth goes out for a day because of business and Hamid is left alone with his daughter and she needs to have her hair braided for today. How would he manage the situation? Have fun writing! 😊</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hamid/Main Character (Desire &amp; Decorum)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Pursuit of Happiness [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Braid my hair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>* English is not my first language.<br/>* All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“I see you tonight, my prince,” Lady Elizabeth purrs close to his mouth after pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I shall earnestly count each minute until you return,” he replies in his husky morning voice. His eyes half-open follow her to the door, where she blew him a kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After completing his morning routine, including reciting his prayers, Prince Hamid sat at the desk on their chambers. Dipping the quill on the ink, his hand dextrously composed the letter to be sent to his sister Nesrim, while sipping coffee, a new tradition introduced when they settled residence at Edgewater.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Suddenly, the door slams open and the reason the couple started locking it comes running inside. Amused, he observed the four-year-old, bare feet and wearing a long white chemise jumping on the bed just to found it empty.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The little girl's head swivelled from side to side, dishevelled long brown hair whipping around her face, until she spotted her father and her cheeks dimpled with a wide smile that replaced the disappointed expression.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Baba!” she yelled and crossed the distance to his chair, hurling herself at his open arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smiling, he hoisted her, sitting her on his lap and received a peck on his cheek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where’s mama?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She is away taking care of businesses,” he said softly, caressing her chubby bronze cheeks, and whispered a blessing against her hair, then kissed the crown of her head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Elizabeth says Samira is Hamid’s miniature, but whenever he looks at her, he mostly sees his wife. The little girl has the same small nose and eyes, sparkling green with untamed curiousness and unconcealable intelligence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Today shall be just the two of us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can we play hide-and-seek?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A gentle rap at the doorframe, and the Prince met the flushed face of Miss Beauchamp, carrying his youngest daughter on her arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Excuse me, Your Highness,” the woman said, without meeting his gaze, “I am terribly sorry. I was taking care of baby Mary Ann when Samira sprinted and I –”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There is nothing to apologise, Miss Beauchamp.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He waved his hands and motioned for the maid to walk inside. Pulling the mass of dark brown hair back, he touched the baby’s forehead and whispered a blessing on his native tongue and kissed her head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The maid was instructed to take the children and prepare them for breakfast.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His lips brushed Samira’s forehead, and she was back on her feet. However, once the maid tried to hold the girl’s hand, she protested. Rooted to the floor, strong-willed as her mother, she fixed her green eyes into his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Baba, my hair!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Miss Beauchamp shall take care of it, <em>Samira’ciğim</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No!” she pouted, “Mama braids my hair…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mama is not here,” he said tenderly, “Someone else must take care of you.” Turning to the maid, Prince Hamid asked, “Could you find Briar – I mean, Mrs. Woods, and ask her to come to the girls’ chambers?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She has left with the Countess this morning, Your Highness.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded and pondered for a moment. “Aunt Briar is not here either. Who shall we call then, <em>evladım</em>?” he asked Samira, caressing her entangled hair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No one!” A large smile curled her lips, and she grabbed his arm. “You do it, baba!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pressing a hand over his heart, faking surprise, he asked, “Me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The little girl’s head bobbed, and he picked her up and carried her to the room at the end of the corridor. There is not a single wish he shan’t grant her if she only asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Playfully he tossed her at the bed, and she giggled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sitting down, small legs, crossed, she observed him picking the brush and a few ribbons from a drawer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not those,” she pointed at the blue ones on his hand, with a vexed expression. “I want the red, baba! Mama picked the red dress for me...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course,” he said looking at the direction of her gaze and apologised for not consulting her prior with an exaggerated flourish. The drawer was opened once more, and he picked the desired ribbons, drawing applauses from her little hands.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man sat beside her, and his fingers raked through the long brown hair that falls down the little girl’s shoulders, darker than her mother’s, silky and thick strands like his and his sisters.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Drawing the comb through her hair, brushing the tangles out of it, the image of his older sisters sitting on the garden of their home instantly flashed before his eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>The smell of roses hung in the air alongside children’s laughter. The young girls took turns combing each other’s long hairs. Their mother would watch them with a smile on her lips and little Malak on her arms. Nesrim would always sing to them – to this day, he still recalls her sweet voice and the most recurrent melody –, and his five-year-old self would sing along sitting on Sevim’s lap, his sister’s long fingers running through his scalp; or Faiza would hold his hands tight and they’d twirl and dance, while the sun kissed their faces. Those moments shared with his sisters are amongst the happiest memories of his childhood.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hummed, sectioning the girl’s hair, as he has seen Elizabeth do numerous mornings; then, the same melody learned many years ago left his tongue while apt fingers crossed the sections, one over the other, and again until the hair was weaved all the way down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, he tied the ribbon, and started doing the same to the other half of her hair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The singing was interrupted when the little girl started talking. Without a break to breath, she retold a dream about tigers and lions, then shared her wishes for breakfast.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“…Then I shall eat a piece of cake, baba. And an apple. I love apples!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her talkativeness definitely come from him, and he smiles.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“…And we can take bread to feed the ducks…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When it was all finished, the girl jumped from the bed and admired herself on the mirror. Grinning, she rushed back to his arms, thanked him and held his face in her small hands, pressing warm kisses at each of his cheeks and to the tip of his long nose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Prince Hamid’s chest reverberated with chuckles and the girl’s laughs rang in the room. Scooping her up and giving her a proper hug, he explained, “Miss Beauchamp will dress you now, and then we shall meet at the table.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Samira acquiesced and the man watched the little girl jumping up and down next to the maid, the braids heaving and falling at the sides of her face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The love overflowing on his heart brought an ear-to-ear grin to his lips.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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